Tuesday, 11 December 2012

About Ginga..

This picture (above) makes me cry as the ginger cat looks very much like Ginga (except Ginga had just one ear - the story about that is towards the end of this Bray People article..). When myself, Thatsit, and Oimouttahere moved to Bray in March 1999, Ginga was already in the garden, he was fully grown, and he'd been TNR'ed. Thatsit and Oimo were born in April 1998, and were still growing when we moved to Bray. I would guesstimate that Ginga was at least one year older than them.

Looking at that kitten version, in the above picture, makes me so sad about never knowing Ginga's background.. Was he born as a feral kitten, or was he dumped in this area when he was still a kitten? There's no way of knowing.. I am just hoping that wherever he is now, he'll know how much he WAS loved (and always will be), how much he mattered, and how much he is missed..

For most of his life, as much as I wanted to get closer with him, give him love and cuddles, and be his Mama, I didn't do most of it, for his sake - like you would allow a wild animal to be wild, to survive. I fed him (not too regularly when he was younger, just to avoid making him too dependant on people, but when he got older, feeding became regular), I talked to him, and I gave him a little rub under the chin or such, just to let him know that he could trust me, in case he'd ever be injured or anything.. Sometime last summer, I noticed that he was starting to go blind, so I started getting closer with him. If the weather was good enough, I'd sit in the garden and we'd have cuddle sessions, etc. I did pick him up a few times, just briefly, and he didn't struggle or anything, but I could sense that he wasn't really comfortable with that. He preferred to relax on the ground while I was petting him and talking to him. It was always breaking my heart, that I couldn't let him in to the house..

I hope that wherever he is now, he will know that there was nothing wrong with him.. That it was never his fault that he couldn't come in to the house (until it was his last night and day, and a few secret nights before that).. That there is someone who will always remember him and always think about him.. That his Mama would have loved to cuddle him everyday, from when he was a kitten, to the very end.. Unfortunately, we just had that very end..

He was always so polite.. He would just quietly sit behind that kitchen door, looking in.. A couple of years ago, when Pushy came to the scene and just forced his way in to the house (hence the name..), I felt horrible for Ginga as he'd been here so much longer, and hadn't been let in.. Pushy doesn't really get to stay in the house, but he knows to run straight to the attic where no one can get him.. Clever child.. Still, I always fed Ginga first, to show him that he was important.. It will always break my heart that I wasn't able to give him more..

Ginga was very beautiful, photogenic, fluffy and clean.. The only time I ever got to really hold him close and hug him, was when he was already dead.. I hope his soul stayed around for that little while, to feel the love..

I know he had a very long life for a feral / semi-feral cat, and it was so much better and safer than what many (or most) other feral cats have, and I'm glad to know that he will never feel pain anymore (as there must have been pain, if he had a tumour..), he will never feel cold, he will never be alone.. But I am so heartbroken about his death, and a little part of me did go with him - and a little part of him will always be with me..

2 comments:

I still cry pretty much every time I go to the kitchen.. I know he's not there, but I look as if expecting to see him outside the kitchen door.. It's like a switched off TV in a room - you can't not look.. :*(